Set Fire to the Rain
by ArwenLalaith
Summary: Emily Prentiss has done the unthinkable - a Capitol girl who volunteered to compete in the annual Hunger Games to save her best friend from a sure death. AU.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: While not technically a crossover (since it doesn't use any of the characters), this is a "fusion" with Hunger Games (since it borrows the concept). You don't need to be familiar with the Hunger Games to understand. Written for the 2012 CM Bigbang on Livejournal - since I had a headline, it isn't really what I had pictured in my mind and I just kinda gave up. If you follow my fics on LJ, it's been up there for like a month, but I don't think anyone has even looked at it, so I'm a sad sad writer.

Emily met Matthew's eyes among the sea of children anxiously hoping not to hear their name called. Wordlessly, they reassured each other that it wasn't going to be his name called; she had a feeling it was more for her benefit than his...for all the opulence she was entitled to, he was really all she cared about in the world.

Her mother liked to reach to the very bottom of the glass ball to fish out a name – God forbid gravity help out someone. Really, it was just because she liked to do things differently than the other escorts, to stand out, that's why she always went with the boys first. Emily didn't complain about that because once she knew Matthew was safe, she was free to breathe again.

She could feel her heart hammering uneasily in her throat as her mother finally selected a name and her golden fingernails sliced through the seal on the slip of paper. There was a brief moment of calm before the storm as her mother's lips moved, but the words didn't seem to materialize.

There was an automatic shuffling as the crowd parted to allow the unfortunate chosen one access to the stage. From her periphery, she saw no movement and she could feel her mother starting to get impatient.

"Matthew Benton," she repeated. And that time Emily heard it. But she refused to believe it.

Jaw agape, she glanced from Matthew to her mother and back. There was no way; this simply couldn't be happening. She wasn't going to let it.

Matthew looked as disbelieving as she felt. He made no move to approach the stage until someone behind him shoved him forwards and the peacekeepers caught him by the arms and frogmarched him towards the stage.

Finally, she found her voice. She leapt forwards and attempted to swat the slip of paper out of her mother's hands as if that would somehow make it untrue. "No!" she cried, "You have to pick someone else! Anyone but him!"

Her mother's eyes turned to her and a switch controlling her artificially cheerful face was flicked, changing her expression into the cold, unfeeling glare she usually wore. "Emily, sit down," she hissed. She was to be seen and not heard, that was the lesson that had been drilled into her since she was very young, when her mother had first inherited the position as escort and refused to leave Emily alone in the Capitol, knowing her penchant for getting into trouble.

"No! Not until you choose someone else!" She attempted to push Matthew back down the steps leading up to the stage, but she wasn't quite quick enough and a peacekeeper caught her by the scruff of her neck and restrained her.

Her mother continued to ignore her pleas and ushered Matthew to the centre of the stage. She asked him a question, but Emily wasn't listening, she was too busy desperately trying to figure out some way to save her best friend.

She wasn't great at spur of the moment planning – which was part of the reason she tended to get into trouble – she instead tended towards making it up as she went along.

With all the force she could possibly muster in her small frame, she pivoted around on her heel and let her elbow make contact with the peacekeeper's solar plexus, stunning him enough to release his grip on her as he doubled over trying to catch his breath.

She took off across the stage and pushed her mother out of her path where she was making her way to the glass ball holding the names of every eligible girl in the district. Her mother toppled slightly on her six inch heels, but managed to retain her balance, but the slight detour was enough to give Emily the advantage.

She reached the reaping ball first and shoved it off its pedestal. It seemed to shatter in slow motion as it met the metal stage, shards reaching all the way to the closest rows of assembled spectators. As one, the crowd seemed to gasp in shock and disbelief.

The wind picked up, as if on cue, and blew the paper slips every which way. Emily knew there was no way her mother would be _running _after them – certainly not in those heels.

"If Matthew's going, I'm going with him," she declared. She turned to meet her mother's eyes, daring her to refuse to let her go.

It was a suicide mission, she knew. But she wasn't planning on going home – she was going to make sure Matthew survived because he was the only person in the world that meant anything at all to her.


	2. Chapter 2

Her mother had refused to speak to her the entire first night on the train to the Capitol – to be honest, Emily hoped the silent treatment might last the entire period leading up to the Games...it would be the best gift she could possibly receive in her last days.

Unfortunately, the next morning, it became clear that her mother had no such plans to leave Emily to her own devices. By first light, she was already whisking her daughter up and out of bed for what she called a 'thoroughly exciting day of studying and preparation'. Hardly Emily's idea of excitement, but she went along with it because she couldn't escape her mother's clutches on a moving train.

"Where's Matthew?" she asked as her mother sat her down before the screen in the train's viewing room where they'd watched the other eleven reapings the night before.

"Never you mind," her mother snapped. "He'll take care of himself." And before she could further protest, the footage of the reapings was being replayed, but with a running commentary of what her mother called the 'best possible Capitol intel' on the other tributes.

According to her mother, Mick Rawson and Megan Kane from District One were both extremely charming and used their sex appeal to their advantage. Mick was an expert sharp shooter with a blow gun, but was extremely skilled with just about anything that could be used to kill someone. Megan, on the other hand, preferred hand-to-hand combat and was known to play with her victims like a cat with a mouse until they begged for death, which is when she would snap their neck.

District Two, of course, were the tributes she needed to truly worry about. Ian Doyle and Elle Greenaway were already being widely acclaimed as the winners and the Games hadn't even started yet. Ian's weapon of choice was the spear, which he was deadly with both at short and long range. Elle, it was rumoured, was mentally unstable and had once killed a man. She relied on stealth and sharp, short-bladed knives to approach victims from behind and slit their throat.

From District Three, Frank Breitkopf and his beloved Jane Hanratty, both of which were a little 'odd'. But then again, most people from District Three were thought of as being different. Frank was an inventor, like most of the citizens of the District, specializing specifically in medical innovations. Jane, however, seemed woefully unprepared, perhaps even unaware of the danger she was in...but Frank was her sworn protector so it didn't really matter

District Four, the last of the 'career districts' would be sending Clyde Easter and Tsia Mosely. Clyde was kind of an egotist, not to mention an insufferable show off. His sword was like an extension of his body, wielded with ease and dexterity...not to mention he touted it as if it were a metaphor of his sexual prowess. Tsia was a well-known knife-throwing prodigy, though with a much smaller ego than her companion.

The male tribute from District Five, her mother warned her, was not to be underestimated. George Foyet had, reputedly, once survived a stabbing attack by a thus unknown murderer who had killed his girlfriend; according to rumours, though, Foyet had committed both attacks himself, though they had never been proven. He and the female tribute, Haley Brooks, already seemed to be sworn enemies. Though she looked harmless enough, she was a good shot with a bow.

Benjamin Cyrus from District Six, Emily was already quite familiar with. When Emily's mother was training to become a mentor and Emily was too young to be left on her own, they'd travelled to District Six in order to observe the Reaping first-hand. Cyrus had cornered Emily while she was playing with a stray kitten, he himself not yet twelve, and had beaten her until she went crying to her mother with a black eye and a split lip. She was planning on keeping her distance from him after experiencing just how skilled he was at hand-to-hand combat. Ashley Seaver, she had never met, but she'd heard the other children whispering about her father who had been hung at the gallows by the Peacekeepers after murdering several women. Emily didn't care to find out whether she had inherited her father's skill with a blade.

As always, the District Seven tributes, John Blackwolf and Amber Canardo, were expectedly skilled with axes. Blackwolf was reported as being an excellent tracker who reputedly knew every plant and animal native to the District. Amber was a hunter who was good with wire traps, which translated into being a skilled garroter.

District Eight's Nathan Harris was reportedly a very troubled young boy who fantasized about killing women. This was his first year being eligible for the reaping; he was small and physically weak, but still somehow frightening. Sarah-Jean Dawes had married young to a much older man because she'd gotten pregnant. And while she stayed home raising their son, her husband had committed multiple murders for which he was later hanged. And though many people from the district pitied her, no one had been willing to step up and take her place, but she took her punishment with a steadfast quiet graciousness.

Though District Six was known for its abundance of morphling addicts, Tobias Hankel from District Ten had gotten addicted at a young age to dull the suffering his strict father inflicted upon him. No one expected much from someone whose mind was so dulled by drugs. Sydney Manning had caused quite a stir at the reaping and her mother was already fretting over the stir she was going to cause among the Capitol viewers and sponsors. They loved a good love story, she warned. While rather unassuming in and of herself, when her name was called, her long-time boyfriend Raymond became hysterical, desperately pleading to let him go with her and protect her, but he'd turned eighteen a week previously and was ineligible. Then, he'd taken a swing at one of the peacekeepers and was shot in the back, causing Sydney to be lead off the stage screaming.

Her mother bothered little with Districts Eleven and Twelve since she was certain that neither of them were likely to pose any sort of threat, considering the history of the Districts' performance. Jennifer Jareau and William LaMontagne from Eleven were a young married couple and Derek Morgan and Cindi Burns from Twelve were cousins. She did warn, though, that they would have the viewers' sympathy because both male tributes had volunteered to protect those important to them.

By the time her mother released her from the impromptu 'study session', Emily was feeling overwhelmed and was starting to doubt whether her decision was wise – how could she possibly protect Matthew against so many well-prepared tributes?

She fled to Matthew's room and, though he wasn't there, she didn't have the energy to go in search of him, instead she curled up in his bed. Weary and stressed, she felt slightly better as she inhaled his scent – like warm wheat – and cuddled deep in his still-warm bedding.

When he later found her in his bed, fast asleep, he couldn't help but laugh. He had been rather upset with her after the reaping, but she knew he couldn't stay mad at her for long. It wasn't as if things could be changed at this point, they were going into the Arena together and only one of them was going to make it out alive.

When he asked her why she'd done it, why she'd thrown away her life like that, she'd lied and told him it was because she wasn't thinking clearly, she was too upset to act rationally. She knew that if she told him she had done it so that she could sacrifice her life for him, he would never let her go through with it.

That was the kind of friendship they had – both of them too stubborn to let the other do something foolish without trying to do something even more foolish to counteract it. Emily had a feeling he had feelings for her that ran deeper than friendship and maybe, if things had been different, she might've had feelings for him too, but she refused to let her only real friendship be ruined on the off chance that there might be something more between them.

Sighing, he brushed her hair from her forehead, then poked her sharply, waking her up. Chuckling at her confusion and alarm, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, kissing her cheek. "Time to be 'mentored', Sleeping Beauty."


	3. Chapter 3

Emily groaned audibly and pulled the blankets up over her head as her mother came bustling into her room and changed the window to 'ridiculously sunny' setting.

"I had a little chat with your stylist because obviously we don't want you dressed like some District Nine charity case when you should be dressed in proper Capitol finery..."

"Go away," Emily mumbled from underneath her fortress of bed clothes.

Her mother continued on as if she hadn't heard her. "But honest to goodness, it was like talking to a wall – I swear, she acted as if she didn't even hear me. The nerve. Apparently the costumes are already made up and it's too late to change anything. Well, you can rest assured that this will be her last Games if I have anything to say about it."

"Go _away_," Emily repeated, using her pillows to cover her ears.

The blankets slipped out of her grasp as her mother grabbed the opposite ends and tugged them off of her. "Get up, get up. We've got lots of work ahead of us. We're already at a disadvantage; the other children have been preparing for this their whole lives."

Emily let out a small scream and threw the nearest pillow in the direction of her mother's voice. "Get _out_!" Hopefully her mother would be affronted enough to give her a few more minutes of sleep.

Unfortunately, that didn't go quite as she'd hoped because almost immediately thereafter, Matthew came and sat on the end of her bed, laughing. "You should have seen the look on your mom's face – she is_pissed_, muttering to herself about your bad manners and how she should leave you to your own devices to teach you a lesson... It was hilarious."

"Matthew, I swear, if you don't let me go back to sleep, I will hit you so hard your whole family will feel it..."

He just laughed harder and she was very seriously considering killing everyone if it meant getting another hour's rest. Then, as if on cue, her door burst open yet again and, with a frustrated shriek, she rolled out of bed, kicking Matthew onto the floor as she did so.

"You, get out," the newcomer demanded of Matthew, "Girls only."

"Good luck," he chuckled as he picked himself up, though which one of them he was speaking to wasn't clear.

"Emily, warrior princess" the woman grinned, smiling widely as she shooed her towards the bathroom to shower. "I'm Penelope, your stylist...but you can just call me Garcia." She winked conspiratorially, since the two had been friends since her mother has first taken the job as district escort and Garcia had taken pity on the sullen, lonely girl being dragged along everywhere. "Not that you need to worry about having people forget you – the little Capitol girl that could – but I'm here to give you that 'wow' factor that will make sure everyone is talking about you!"

Emily had always known Garcia was a ridiculously overly cheerful woman, but as of this moment, she decided she was far too cheerful for so early in the morning and she couldn't help but hate her just a little.

* * *

Emily was used to being dressed up and shown off like a doll, it was a routine she was good at after years of practice. The night of the tribute parade, she was dressed in a long gold gown that shimmered in the light in a way reminiscent of a gust of wind blowing through a field of wheat. A circlet of wheat stalks rested up on perfectly curled and coiffed hair, making her head itch.

She had tried to escape her stylist's enthusiasm by hiding in the stables, in the lower reaches of the training centre. She loved horses – they were her favourite part of the Tribute Parade, possibly the Games as a whole – she'd always connected much more easily with horses than with people (her mother always said it was because she was anti-social, but in fact, it was much simpler than that...she just didn't _like_other people).

Despite the glamourous gown she wore, she knelt down next to one of the horses and fed it bits of carrot and braided its mane with wheat stalks like her own. She laughed softly as the horse snuffled at her hand, grabbing the carrot from her palm with its dexterous lips. She could almost forget in that moment that she was about to be paraded for the world to see like a steer at auction.

It was a short-lived respite, though, because with uncanny skill Garcia soon tracked her down and insisted on attacking her 'atrociously pale' skin with make ups and powders Emily didn't even know the name of until she didn't recognize the face in the mirror. It wasn't tacky like most women seen throughout the Capitol, but it wasn't _her_ – she wouldn't be caught dead in make up if it were up to her.

When Matthew eventually found her later, looking like a cheap televangelist in his matching golden suit, she watched him try to contain his laughter upon seeing the layer of colours on her face. To his credit, he managed to contain it quite well, managing to keep a straight face as he told her that she looked stunning.

She flashed a fleeting smile, but it was overshadowed by the dread of being put on display, along with the rest of the Capitol's collection of new toys.


	4. Chapter 4

When they got inside the training centre, Emily was starting to regret throwing herself into this death trap.

All the other tributes, even the ones from the non-career districts, had at least some skill with a weapon. The ones from Seven knew how to use axes from time spent in the forest, the ones from Three could turn just about anything into a weapon from sheer ingenuity.

And then there was her: the little Capitol girl who wouldn't know how to use a weapon if – or rather, when – her life depended on it. She even managed to fail at the survival skills. She was starting to think her plan to protect Matthew was going to fail miserably – he was going to be the one taking care of her.

Three days was not enough time to perfect a skill others had spent a lifetime learning.

At the moment, she was trying her hand at archery, though she had yet to produce results even remotely respectable. Matthew was shooting at the next target over and the instructor was cooing over what she called his 'natural skill'.

When she felt the hand on her shoulder, Emily whirled around and nearly punched the person who had snuck up on her. He laughed as he easily deflected her fist. "Calm down, Princess," he said, flashing a charming smile.

Emily narrowed her eyes, frowning. _'Princess'? What was that supposed to mean?_

She was about to tell him to fuck off when he turned her to face the target again and wrapped his hands around hers on the bow. "You're not pulling the string back far enough," he told her, "That's why you keep falling short – you aren't getting enough power."

He guided her hand back until she felt his fingers brush her ear and a shiver ran the length of her spine. "You want the string beside your ear to get enough tension."

Her arm started to shake from the effort of keeping the string taut enough – if it hadn't been for his hand keeping it steady, she was sure the arrow would've clattered to the floor.

She couldn't bring herself to keep her eyes open to watch and see whether she actually hit the target. Really, she was just hoping she didn't somehow manage to accidentally shoot her mysterious benefactor.

Still tensed, cringing, and sightless as the arrow escaped her grasp, she felt a strong clap on her shoulder, a hearty chuckle in her ear as she was told to relax. The look with which she turned to glare at him just caused him to laugh harder.

"Derek Morgan," he introduced himself, fighting to keep a straight face. "Why don't we head over to edible plants and I'll teach you a few things."

Her glare faltered momentarily. "Why?"

"Why what?" he grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to guide her.

"Why are you helping me? She bristled a little, feeling like a charity case.

He shrugged, but smiled in a mysterious way that somehow put her mind at ease and made her instantly feel she could trust him.

* * *

Emily didn't cross paths with Derek again until the next day at lunch when he slid into the seat beside her with a tray full of food. He proceeded to steal a handful of grapes that tasted like strawberries from her plate. And when she started to protest, he flashed that smile and she could do nothing but glare at him.

Through his mouthful of pilfered fruit, he said, "I've been thinking you and I should make an alliance. Because, let's be honest, you're not exactly winning any prizes for your weapons skill."

"Hey!" she started, indignant, but couldn't exactly say that he was wrong, so she left it at that. She glanced towards where Matthew was sampling various fruits from the food carts with comical faces. She estimated she had enough time before he returned to his seat. "I can't team up with you. You're just one more person standing in the way of me sending Matthew home."

"Hey, I get it," she shrugged, "I'm here to make sure my cousin gets home safe. I promised her mama that I would look after her and I stand by that promise. It'll break my Mama's heart, but she'll understand...besides, she's got my sisters. All Auntie's got is Cindi."

Emily attempted a look of what she hoped was empathy. He was making it really hard for her to not think of the other tributes as real people.

"I was just thinking that we might stand a better chance of keeping them alive together...then you and I can off each other and leave them to fight it out between themselves. At least one of them could make it home and you and I will know we did all we could to keep them alive."

She wrinkled her nose, thinking. She liked the idea of having someone else protecting Matthew, but at the same time, it wasn't a guarantee for his survival. Not that she could do much better on her own, if she was completely honest...

But the time for discussing it was over because Matthew had finally finished sampling the delicacies and was setting a tray laden with food on the table. "You are such a pig," Emily laughed, "You're going to puke all over the training room floor when we run that obstacle course after lunch..."


	5. Chapter 5

David Rossi flashed a charming smile as he welcomed Emily onto the stage. "You all know and love her, the little Capitol girl who defied all expectations with her bleeding heart for the plight of our friends in the Districts..."

Emily teetered on the edge of the stage behind the sparkling purple velvet curtains, her head swimming with dizziness and anxiety. Maybe if she hoped long and hard enough, she thought, the ground would open and swallow her up. Except, she knew that wasn't about to happen because she never got what she wanted.

She wasn't nervous, per se; Emily Prentiss was never _nervous_. She'd just rather be anywhere else in that moment. Despite years of schmoozing, fake smiling, and feigning interest at her mother's ritzy Hunger Games viewing parties, this was the situation of her nightmares; more so even than actually entering the arena.

She was not charming. She was not personable. She was not known for her winning personality. She was sarcastic, self-deprecating, dark, and oh-so utterly socially awkward. Right now, all she was hoping for was not to immediately stick her foot in her mouth and try not to let her utter dread appear on her face as David Rossi once again called her name – her cue to come on stage – and she tried not to stumble in her sky-high heels.

The stage lights were overwhelmingly bright and radiated heat like direct sunlight and a fine sheen of sweat immediately permeated the layer of makeup on her face. She felt like every sound came from underwater and her vision swam as she somehow found her seat on the stage.

Rossi was saying a lot of things and she couldn't quite piece enough words together to form a logical sentence. The only word that stuck in her mind was _mother_ and after a long moment of anticipatory silence from the audience, she realized he meant _her _mother.

"Oh, well, she...umm..." She was pretty sure she sounded like a complete idiot in that moment.

"I'm sure she was quite upset – I know I'd be absolutely devastated if I had a daughter who was going to compete in the Games."

Okay, now she understood the question. And it made her want to laugh out loud, but she managed to contain it long enough to sort of form an answer. "Well, I guess...I think she was mostly mad at me."

He quirked a brow and she was starting to think that maybe she should be telling a little less of the truth. "I'm sure that's not true – she's probably just masking her sadness. I imagine she's incredibly proud of you for your caring, selfless spirit; I don't know anyone else that would volunteer the way you did. It's an inspiring example of the Capitol's kindness towards the Districts."

"Yeah, I don't think that's it either," she said slowly. "That's not her style."

"Well, what is she like? How would you describe her as a mother?"

Emily shut her eyes tightly and silently cursed, wishing she could just die in that moment. This was the worst torture ever, in her mind. "She's...devoted to her job," she shrugged, finding a perfect political answer. "But I'd really prefer not to talk about her – this is my battle and mine alone." She winced internally; she wasn't going to have a single sponsor after tonight. "I think she gets enough publicity already as District escort...it's my turn."

Rossi chuckled. "Fair enough. What about your fellow District Nine tribute? Is he a _special_ friend of yours?"

She felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. "No, no, definitely not, we're just best friends. And that's hard enough to manage when I only get to see him once or twice a year. But he's the most important person in the world to me." The audience gave a prolonged sad sigh, won over instantly by her devotion.

* * *

It was the middle of the night when Emily went in search of Derek to tell him that she needed him as her ally.

It was a little late and probably not the best idea at this time of night, especially on the night before they were launched into the arena. But she had a feeling that he was a lot like her and would be unable to find sleep, overwhelmed by the obligation in which he would shortly be face-to-face with.

She found him on the roof, staring off into the perma-daylight of the city, back to her. "Are they still screaming your name?" she asked quietly, so as not to spook him, not sure if he'd heard her approach.

"Are you making fun of me, Princess?" He wasn't facing her, but she could tell from his voice that he was smiling.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure I saw a girl in the audience with a 'Marry me, Derek Morgan!?' sign. You're the Capitol's new sweetheart...you're too damn good looking."

He laughed and turned around to tip her a wink. "You're not so bad on the eyes either."

"Shut up." She punched him in the shoulder as she came to sit down next him. "Can we be serious for a minute?"

He sighed exasperatedly, sitting down beside her, still grinning. "What's on your mind, Princess?" He wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"I know I don't have a single useable quality that would make you want to team up with me – the only reason I got a score higher than a two was because the Gamemaker's all want the Capitol girl to win – but I need you on my side. Please, help me keep Matthew alive."

He pressed a kiss against her temple. "I already promised I would. You should be sleeping, you look like a wreck."

She mashed her lips together. "Gee, thanks..."

He ushered her back onto the elevator before she could say anything more and she was still a little confused about what had just happened when she stepped off onto her floor and ran straight into her mother.

She winced immediately, anticipating the verbal assault to come. But instead of the shouting she expected, her mother in a cold, slow voice, demanded, "Get into bed. Now."

"I was just..." she started to explain that she'd needed fresh air.

"I said _now_."

Suddenly in a bitter mood, she huffed and shot her mother a frosty glare, turning on her heel to stomp off to her room.

As she disappeared behind her door the elevator once again opened onto their floor, this time admitting the boy from District Two whom her mother greeted with her most charmingly political smile.

"Can we make this quick?" the boy drawled immediately. "If they notice I'm gone, I will be in severe trouble and I won't hesitate to point the blame squarely in your direction."

Elizabeth smiled. "That's just the fighting spirit I need. And I have something you need as well... I can make life in the arena for you very easy or very difficult. You won't survive two days without sponsors and I can get them for you, assuming you agree to help me. If not, I'll make sure you don't see a single gift."

Ian's attention was piqued. This woman clearly knew how to play ball. "What are your terms?"

"As I'm sure you've guessed, my daughter has a mind of her own and I can't have her running around in the arena like some District brat – no offence – blindly trying to survive. And as I'm also sure you've guessed, she won't last one hour on her own...she scored a _five _for crying out loud. What she needs is someone looking out for her, someone who scored an eleven. That someone _will _be you, understand?"

Ian smiled, charming yet dangerous. "As you wish, ma'am."

"And make sure you get rid of that boy she volunteered for – maybe then she'll get a brain and start thinking about her own survival.


	6. Chapter 6

Emily wasn't a morning person, even less so after a night of fitful, nightmare-ridden sleep – and she was never shy about letting everyone know. But this morning, during the hovercraft ride to the arena, she remained thoughtfully silent.

Garcia knew well how to read her by this point and she knew better than to disrupt Emily's overwhelmed brain. She said nothing the entire ride to the arena. She said nothing as she dressed Emily in the tribute uniform of loose durable pants – reinforced in the knees and stretchy enough to allow for easy climbing, a breathable form-fitting tank top for hot afternoons, and a plush down-filled jacket with a hood – capable of folding down into a built-in pocket – with the number nine stitched in orange on the back, and flexible rubbery soled shoes.

"I'm sorry the shoes are so ugly" she finally broke the silence. "I didn't have any say in the matter despite my numerous vociferous protests on the grounds of hideousness."

"They hurt my feet," Emily said quietly, thoughtfully.

Leaning close to whisper conspiratorially, Garcia told her, "You'll need them where you're going. Think about it."

Without another word, Emily sat down on the uncomfortable stone bench and scuffed her toe against a stone stuck in the hard-packed dirt floor.

Garcia sighed, then reached out to clasp Emily's hands. "Come home," she murmured softly, "I know how scared you must be, how you're going to somewhere dark, somewhere you're all alone...but you're not alone. We're all there with you and we're going to bring you home. That's all we care about. We're going to bring you home."

She was getting teary and Emily opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water several times, struggling to find something to say. Before she could, a mechanical overly pleasant female voice announced that it was time to get into the tube that would launch her into the arena.

Garcia gave her a too-tight hug that forced the air out of her lungs in a comforting sort of way and Emily never wanted her to let go.

* * *

As her platform raised her into the Arena, she vaguely wondered if a tribute had ever been so anxious that they'd thrown up as they waited for the gong to sound. She didn't want to have to endure being the first...but she was having some difficulty keeping her stomach from turning. As it was, she was shaking violently and she really hoped that the tremors weren't visible to the viewers.

The platform raised her into what appeared to be a runoff basin, surrounded on all sides by mountains. A glacial river cut through the valley, flowing with what was sure to be frigid water. Vegetation was sparse and low to the ground, except for conifer trees that seemed to flourish in that environment, but even those became less common the higher the elevation, eventually petering out to nothing at all approaching the snow-capped peaks.

The sun glinted off the Cornucopia at blinding angles from where it hung high in the sky over the ring of mountain peaks. Climbing gear and ropes spilled forth from the mouth, along with the usual survival gear and weapons.

Derek had given Emily_ very _specific instructions for the Cornucopia: she was to let him worry about getting them supplies, all she was to worry about was getting Matthew and Cindi as far from the bloodbath as possible and he would follow them.

Right now, though, the supplies were looking very tempting and it took her several moments before she had the wherewithal to look for her companions. Several platforms to her right was Derek who was frantically trying to get her attention before the remaining seconds ticked away.

Following his signalling, she found Cindi near to his right and, though she couldn't see him, Matthew seemed to be opposite her on the far side of the semi-circle of tributes. That created a bit of a dilemma for her – she had promised Derek that she would protect Cindi and keep her safe, but her promise to protect Matthew ran stronger and more deeply. And, while she didn't want to risk losing Derek as her ally, she was well aware that in the time it would take her to reach Cindi and then Matthew, they would be set upon by every tribute sticking around for the bloodbath. If she was lucky, she could escape the Cornucopia with one of them unharmed, but certainly not both. And her time to decide was quickly slipping past.

When the gong sounded, she was still struggling to come up with a win-win situation. Her heart reacted before the rest of her, hammering staccato against her heaving chest. By the time her mind caught up with her – only seconds in reality – blood had already started flowing.

The careers, as expected, were the first to reach the bounty of the Cornucopia and the boy from District Two drew the first blood from the frightened looking boy from Eight as he stumbled wide-eyed from his platform and into the fray where he was immediately met with the business end of a spear.

Startled into awareness, Emily sprinted forwards without second-guessing, making a beeline for Matthew. All she could do was hope Cindi thought to do the same and hope Derek understood in the end.

Halfway to the heart of combat outside the mouth of the Cornucopia, she stumbled on a boulder, narrowly avoiding the axe the girl from Seven had sent flying at her head._ 'Great,'_ she thought to herself,_ 'Not even a minute in and I've already nearly died.' _As she scrambled to her feet again, her would be killer had already grasped a second axe and was running in her direction with it aimed squarely at her.

With a yelp, Emily ducked behind a crate of supplies and groped blindly along the ground searching for something with which she could defend herself, but found only a rock. But as she peered out from behind the barricade, the point was rendered moot as the girl's axe found purchase in the skull of the girl from Six.

Emily was off running again, attempting to dodge unseen around the group of careers who seemed to have joined together to hack someone into a million tiny pieces, though she couldn't tell who the unfortunate victim was.

As she ran, she could see Derek stuffing everything within his reach into several packs he had managed to get his hands on, pausing intermittently to beat back the other tributes with what appeared to be a wooden club should they get too close. He seemed unharmed, at least from a distance; apparently his formidable size made the other tributes think twice before mixing it up with him.

Matthew was within her sight, hovering on the edge of a small copse of trees and she was starting to feel hopeful about her chances of actually surviving the Cornucopia when she felt a hand closing about her ankle.

She couldn't help the startled scream that found its way out of her throat as she once again fell to the ground. Hissing an expletive as she rolled over onto her back, she bent her free leg up towards her chest, preparing to smash her heel into her attacker's face.

But upon coming face-to-face with the tribute clutching her ankle, she again found herself screaming. What had once been the not-too-homely face of the girl from District Eight was now cloven nearly in two, half of her skull missing, blood cascading over her jaw and neck like a waterfall.

Emily's immediate reaction was to scuttle backwards on her hands, desperately kicking her legs in an attempt to loosen the girl's grip, all the while fighting the bile that was climbing its way up her throat.

The girl tried to mouth something – possibly 'help me' – but Emily's continued screams drowned it out as the waterfall of blood splashed back at her.

Then, seemingly from thin air, Cindi appeared sporting a split lip and a bloody nose, and kicked the girl in the gut, effectively freeing Emily as she reeled back, winded. Cindi reached out a hand to help Emily to her feet which brought her back to her senses as she continued to stare at the dying girl in horror.

Relieved to have found Cindi relatively unharmed, Emily made the final dash to the safety of the trees, then paused to check that Derek was following them. What she saw instead was him stopped to sling the packs over his shoulders when he witnessed the boy from Five stab the girl from his district. And Emily knew Derek, being ever the gentleman, wouldn't be able to just continue on and do nothing.

He was going to get himself killed.

Against all his orders, Emily found herself retracing her steps, running headlong towards the bloodbath. She still had no weapons, except the stone still clenched tightly in her fist, slippery with sweat and even less of a plan.

Seeing Derek coming after him, the other boy tackled him to the ground despite being at least fifty pounds lighter and threw a few punches before Emily was close enough to intervene. She threw the rock, hoping she wouldn't hit Derek by accident; she didn't stand there long enough to see whether or not she hit her target before taking off the way she'd come, shouting at Derek to run.

When she returned to where the others were waiting, she couldn't bring herself to look back for fear of what she'd see. Hands on her knees, out of breath, she managed to pant out, "Is he coming?"

Matthew opened his mouth to reply from where he was watching from behind a scrub bush, but before he could get the words out, Derek crashed through the trees and continued on running with a gesture for them to follow.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Last chapter for awhile because I'm going on a little vacation (you have no idea how much I need a break from these kids).

The first night in the arena passed without further event beyond tending to Derek's wounds from the Cornucopia, though Emily was pretty sure his nose would never be quite the same as it now had a pronounced bend to the left.

She slept very little that night, her mind replaying the scenes of gore she'd witnessed. And while she'd never been wildly thrilled about the Games, she still felt somehow responsible for never having done anything to stop it. Every year she'd endured the propaganda of the Capitol explaining why the Games were a necessity and why they continued to have them in order to discourage any subsequent troublemakers from getting ideas. Still, she'd heard whispers around the Capitol for years about rebellion and she'd never done anything to help Matthew – she'd never even asked him if he was part of it.

The next day was equally uneventful; they stayed in the relatively secluded lean-to they'd built in the thickest undergrowth of the forest where it crept up the mountain-side while Derek convalesced. She was starting to worry that he might have a concussion and she just didn't have time to wait for him to heal from a brain injury.

On the bright side, she hoped that perhaps the careers might thin out the playing field a little. The sky that night, though, showed no additional deaths. Emily had personally talked to several Gamemakers during her years of attending Hunger Games parties and celebrations and she knew how much delight they took in their special personally-designed weapons. She wanted to move their camp that night, but Derek's eye was still swollen shut and he didn't have particularly great night-vision to begin with so they were forced to wait until morning.

But by first dawn, it was already too late – the mountain peaks had disappeared in a thick grey-green cloud that had settled in overnight. The colour and thickness announced that they were no natural clouds.

Derek tried to convince her that there was no reason to be anxious, that they were just in for a regular rainstorm, but she was convinced there was cause for alarm. And as the first drops fell and the vegetation around them started melting, it became clear who was right.

After almost six hours of rain, things finally stopped melting and, though the tarpaulin they'd procured from the Cornucopia seemed to have been somehow fortified against the acid rain, all their supplies and food sources had been completely destroyed, as was their chance to search the arena to see if anything remained unharmed seeing as darkness was already starting to percolate around the edges of the sky.

That night, the sky showed that Districts Five and Ten had both lost their male tributes, which Emily suspected was no accident.

* * *

Emily threw herself into the underbrush as the crunch of footsteps over dead leaves approached. She held her breath as she lay on her stomach, watching for the approacher's boots to pass by, trying very hard not to think about what might be crawling through the carpet of decaying plant matter surrounding her.

It was a slight advantage, the years of formal dance training her mother had forced her to endure for propriety's sake worked in her favour, making her considerably more fleet of foot than many of the other tributes. That, and the fact that she had taken to wearing three pairs of socks instead of her boots during her food scavenging missions to make her footsteps less noticeable.

The footsteps slowed as they got closer and then stopped completely directly in front of her, forcing her to wonder if she hadn't been seen. She nearly cursed out loud when the approacher didn't continue on past, but sat down a few feet in front of her, as if to make camp.

If she didn't return to their camp by nightfall, Derek would come looking for her, meaning that Matthew and Cindi would be exposed, since Derek would never leave them alone if it weren't absolutely necessary. And while she didn't know exactly who was stationed outside her hiding spot, she was sure that she didn't want to be the reason that her friends came face to face with them.

"I don't want to be waiting out here in the open all night, Love, especially since it looks like rain," a voice said, causing her heart to stop for what felt like far too many beats. "Let's both stop pretending I don't know you're in there."

_'I there any chance I could just take off running in the opposite direction without being pursued?'_she wondered. Adrenalin caused her to shiver slightly as she fished her knife out of her belt, then belly-crawled out from under a tangle of thorns.

"Put that away, G.I. Jane," the voice told her lazily, "I don't want to hurt you."

"That's exactly what someone who wanted to hurt me would say," she replied matter-of-factly, raising a brow.

"Ian," he introduced himself with a grin, easing her knife out of her grip. "Ian Doyle. District Two."

"What do you want?" she asked, making no effort to be friendly.

He laughed a little at her attempt to be threatening. "Is that any way to speak to someone who holds their life in their hands?"

"If you're going to kill me, just do it," she said, starting to walk away, knife in hand or not.

"Who said I wish to kill you?" He smiled and it simultaneously made her legs tremble in fear and made her stomach flip-flop in a sickeningly school-girl way. "It would be foolish to kill such an interesting individual without first picking your brain a little."

For some reason, she felt mildly triumphant that he found her interesting. Even though she had no idea who he was or why he spared her more than a second glance.

She didn't realize she had stopped in her tracks until she felt his arm wrapping around her shoulders, turning her back the way she'd just come. "Stick around, won't you? I've got a sponsor gift of hot food waiting for us..."

She glanced back in the direction of their camp, biting her lip in thought; torn. She really should be getting back...but her stomach seemed to be overpowering her at the thought of a real meal (for days, they'd had nothing but what they could scavenge and Emily Prentiss was not a girl who was used to going hungry).

She let him continue to lead her farther from where her friends were waiting for her to return with dinner. It felt a little like she was betraying them, to eat without them while their stomachs were growling and worry for her safety hovered at the forefront of their thoughts. Especially when she was in the company of someone who would probably kill them just as soon as look at them (he was from District Two, afterall). But he didn't seem in a hurry to kill her and she _really _wanted a hot meal, so she decided to be wary, but trust him nonetheless.

"I'm Emily, by the way," she finally found her tongue when she realized that he'd told her his name, but she'd neglected to do the same.

He laughed a little – a genuine sound, but with just a little condescension. "I know who you are. The whole country knows who you are...perhaps you haven't realized yet, Love, the overnight celebrity you've become."

"That's ridiculous," she scoffed.

"Is it?" he challenged, casting a backwards glance at her, brow raised. But he left it at that, probably because saying anything more on his part would be considered incendiary.


	8. Chapter 8

By the time she returned to their camp, dusk had fallen and she had been reduced to something of a bloody pulp.

The story, as best Derek was able to make out was that she'd been foraging when Cyrus from District Six had startled her and beaten her within an inch of her life. She'd blacked out at one point and he must have thought her dead because when she came too, he was nowhere to be seen.

With a sympathetic grimace, he fed her a handful of aspen bark to help the pain and mopped her wounds with cold water until she fell asleep. He had no choice but to forgive her for disappearing for an entire afternoon with nothing to show for it. Not that he was too inclined to hold a grudge against her anyway.

What she hadn't told him was that she'd come upon Cyrus after her afternoon with Ian – and nothing to show for her supposed scavenging – mind tangled with a confusing mess of thoughts about Ian and her mind sleepy from the after-effects of the first good meal in days.

She admittedly wasn't paying the attention she should and the situation she'd wandered into was entirely her fault. So she'd made up a less self-implicating story that wasn't entirely false, it just left out certain details. He had, in fact, beat her to the point of unconsciousness, but afterwards, Ian had swiftly sent a spear through his heart.

* * *

After that, Derek was hesitant to leave her alone for so much as a second. Which meant her attempts to meet up with Ian again were significantly thwarted when Derek would go searching for food and leave her with Matthew and Cindi.

She was left with no choice but to beg Matthew for help. She felt awful for having to burden him with it, especially knowing how he felt about her.

She knew that she shouldn't be seeing Ian behind the backs of her companions and allies, but she couldn't help it. There was something about Ian that drew her to him. And she found herself wanting him to like her, despite knowing that he was her most dangerous opponent.

If Derek knew about her secret trysts with him, he would probably see it as an act of betrayal and he would probably hate her for it. He'd probably instantly decry her as a double agent of the careers who'd only teamed up with them in order to report back about their weaknesses. While Ian had asked about Derek's strengths and weaknesses, she hadn't told him anything. For some reason, she couldn't stand the idea of Derek hating her.

Every night, she'd wake Matthew after Derek fell asleep when it was her turn to keep watch and he would cover for her so that she could meet up with Ian for a few hours. Every time, he would ask her why she was leaving and where she was going. And every time she would silently beg him not to go there because she couldn't bring herself to be honest with him. He couldn't deny her anything, though, and he eventually let her go without answering any of his questions.

Each time she would silently wonder if Ian was worth betraying her friends, but night after night, she couldn't resist seeing his face again.


	9. Chapter 9

It was nearing sunset and the four of them were hunkering down for the night in a small alcove in the side of the rock face that appeared to have once been inhabited by a family of bears or some other large predator, judging by the carrion littering the floor.

Derek was going to take the first watch, then wake her in a few hours to take over as was their usual night-time ritual. She huddled close to Matthew under the blanket they'd managed to liberate from the Cornucopia, but it did little to keep the chill air at bay. The small fire choked up the cloistered cave air with smoke making it hard to breathe without feeling as if you were suffocating.

It seemed like she'd only just settled and sleep had only just started to percolate in the far-off reaches of her mind when Derek shook her awake. "There is _no way_ that was..." she started to complain, but stopped when she saw the look on his face.

Sitting up so fast that she got dizzy, she knit her brows in concern as she tried to sense what it was that had gotten him so worked up. "What is it?" she whispered when she failed to pick up on any danger, taking care not to wake the others without undue cause for alarm.

"I'm not sure," he told her, helping her to her feet without waking Matthew. They moved to crouch at the mouth of the cavern. "Someone is out there. I'm going to go check it out."

Emily felt her heart clenching in a panic. "No!" she told him with complete seriousness, "You can't go out there alone, not in the middle of the night...who knows what could be out there? If it's some kind of mutt and you run into it alone, you won't stand a chance!"

"Relax, Princess," he soothed, running his fingers through her hair, his eyes staring into hers and yet focused a million miles away. "I'm not going in search of trouble, I just want to see what's going down so we'll have enough time to pack up camp and run away if whatever's thrashing around out there comes this way."

"I don't think it's a good idea," she insisted, "Let's just go if it worries you that much."

He pressed a finger to her lips to silence her. "Just keep watch for a few minutes and I'll let you sleep the entire rest of the night. I'll be back before you've had time to miss me."

"Derek..." she tried one last time to reason with him, but he pressed his lips to hers before she could get any more words out, and then he was gone.

Simultaneously fuming with anger and extremely confused, she sat herself down beside the fire to keep watch. She decided she was going to be mad at him when he got back; he would've never let her pull a stunt like that if it had been her that wanted to go investigate a potentially dangerous situation in the dead of night.

Against her best efforts to stay awake, she ended up nodding off a little, waking herself up when her chin slipped out of her palm where it rested, nearly causing her to faceplant into the dirt.

She felt her cheeks burn a little with embarrassment, annoyed that she'd allowed herself to fall asleep on the job. Then, she started to panic a little realizing that Derek still hadn't returned. She _knew _she shouldn't have let him go alone.

She was very seriously considering going after him when a figure emerged from the trees running, panicked, in an uncontrolled path towards them. _'I swear to God, if this is some kind of joke, I'm going to kill him,' _she thought, pursing her lips in a determinedly unsmiling line.

But as the figure got closer, she realized that it_ wasn't _Derek and she immediately felt her heart drumming a panicked beat against her ribs. She was on her feet before she knew what she was doing and, knife at the ready, she ran out to meet them head on.

The closer she got, the more she felt the blood seemingly racing through her veins with an icy fear. "Ian?" she whispered as she came face-to-face with him and he collapsed in her arms.

He was covered in blood and sweat and his handsome face wore the hallmarks of combat. He looked into her face as if in disbelief that it was really her, his eyes wild and unfocused. "Emily?" She nodded, pushing his hair back from his forehead where a gash was matting his blond hair with blood.

He became even more agitated as he tried to piece together a story with disjointed words. But the only thing she really managed to pick out was that Derek was dead – the cannon must've gone off while she was asleep. The taste of bile rose in her throat as the realization that she was alone in protecting two innocent people fully hit her.

And suddenly, she was panicking. "I've got to go find him!" she insisted, "Maybe he's still alive – I've got to help him!" Ian's grip on her tightened as she leapt forwards in the direction from which he'd come. She fought hard against him, but he was just too strong. She collapsed to the ground with a cry like a wounded animal.

She wanted to cry, but she was just too exhausted to call up any tears. Ian's sticky blood-slicked hands on the sides of her face called her back to reality. As if reading her thoughts, he solemnly promised her, "We'll protect them together."

_'Together.'_ The word rattled hollowly around in her head as she tried to make sense of what he was promising.


	10. Chapter 10

Derek groaned as he rolled over onto his stomach and attempted to raise himself onto his hands and knees, coughing hard, blood bubbling along his split and swollen lips.

He remembered searching the woods, a little worried that he had stumbled upon a cougar or a bear or some other aggressive beast, judging by the noise it was making, and then... He wasn't sure what had happened then, but judging by the way his entire body ached, he'd gotten into some sort of fight.

He tried to get to his feet so he could figure out where he was and how to get back to Emily and the others. But before he could, someone came rushing to his side and attempted to force him to lie down again.

He stubbornly resisted the hands on his shoulders, intent on regaining control of the situation. "Derek, lie down!" a female voice – not Emily – demanded, "You're going to bust your stitches open!"

Hearing that, he gave in and lay back down. "What do you mean stitches?" he asked, confused about how he'd gotten stitches in the middle of the arena. With a second thought, he added, "And who the hell are you?"

He was answered with a container of water being pressed to his lips. "Drink this. You've lost a lot of blood and we need to get some fluids into you."

"Answer me!" He was starting to get flustered. "What's going on?"

"Calm down," the girl urged, moping his brow with a handful of wet moss and, judging by the sting, cleaning a few wounds. "You were attacked by that District Two boy...you're lucky he didn't wait around to finish you off. You wouldn't have lasted much longer if Will and I hadn't found you."

"And who exactly are you?"

She stopped what she was doing and moved to allow him to see her clearly. "Jennifer, District Eleven. Call me JJ."

"Why did you save me?" The question that was bugging him the most about this whole situation.

She pressed a finger to her lips – they couldn't safely discuss it when there were Capitol cameras everywhere. Instead, she lifted his shirt to expose his wound, swatting his hand away with sharp reflexes when he tried to stop her, and continued cleaning him up.

"You're going to have to be careful for the next few days – we did the best we could to patch you up, considering the supplies we had. But I'm more worried about infection."

"How exactly did you stitch..."

He was interrupted by distinctly accented male voice as someone else entered the shelter – he assumed this was the Will the girl had mentioned. "They're army ants. We ran into a nest a few days ago, kept a few of them to use as a weapon, but they come in handy as a quick suture." The look on his face must have been quite disgusted because Will quickly explained, "You just hold 'em by the head, let the pincers grip the edges of the wound, then snap off the body. They're not poisonous and they've got an antibacterial secretion."

Derek was still concerned, but JJ stuffed a wad of bread into his mouth and demanded he rest.

* * *

Emily had learned to read Matthew pretty well, for the short amount of time that they'd actually spent in each other's company. But she wouldn't have had to read him in order to learn that he didn't really trust Ian. He made no secret of the fact.

But whatever it was that made Matthew so skeptical, Emily just couldn't see it. And Matthew would do anything for her, so he continued to go along with her. Not without suggesting nightly that they cut their ties to Cindi and Ian and make off on their own...but he stayed with them nonetheless.

Emily had always sworn that she was never going to fall for _any_ man, but Matthew had held onto hope. He could see that she was falling for Ian, though, even knowing that there was no possible way this could end well for all of them. He wanted to believe that it was the stress of the Games that was wreaking havoc with Emily's sensibilities and that if things had been different, she would never have given Ian a second look if they'd met in any other situation.

She wasn't like most girls – and even less like most Capitol citizens – and that's what drew him to her. It also made her nearly impossible to predict and that was where the problem lay. Maybe she was just playing Ian for sponsors (they'd certainly been receiving a lot more gifts since he'd joined their party), but he just couldn't be sure.

He swore to himself that he'd never truly trust Ian; that he'd never sleep while Ian was awake, that he'd never leave him alone with Emily, that he'd never go unarmed in Ian's company. The expression Emily would shoot him whenever he acted suspiciously towards Ian cut him deeper than any knife ever could, but as much as she thought she was protecting him, he had sworn to himself to protect her even more. So he continued to be vigilant and forced himself to endure her glares.

He just hoped he'd have a chance to explain himself to her before his cannon went off.

Ian, on the other hand, seemed to find it almost amusing the way he would hover distrustfully in the background like Emily's little guard dog. He would smile knowingly and soothe Emily's displeasure with assurances like 'Let him be, Love, he only means to show that he cares.' (Matthew hated the way he called her 'Love', ever so slightly condescendingly and sickeningly self-assured...but he hated even more the way it made Emily's cheeks tinge the faintest pink and immediately seemed to have her eating out of his hand.)

Matthew simply couldn't understand how Ian had managed to worm his way into Emily's innermost circles of trust. She didn't trust anyone, Matthew wasn't sure that even he had earned her utmost confidences. And yet, this boy from District Two, the one that everyone in the Capitol favoured to win without even trying, the one that they'd seen snap the neck of the little District Eight boy at the Cornucopia had Emily practically worshipping him...

He was starting to think that she wasn't nearly as hardened and unfeeling as she so desperately wanted everyone to believe...maybe she really was just a fragile little girl who wanted nothing more than to have somebody care about her more than anything in the world.

The worst part was that he_ knew_ he could've given her that...if only he had been given the chance to try. And now he would never know because he would die long before Ian. He and Emily were always cursed to never be more than a question mark.


	11. Chapter 11

Each day the ring of mountains became steadily steeper, funnelling the tributes into the valley – but it also directed the wildlife into the valley as well. Whether it was the increased wildlife or Gamemaker intervention, the food sources were drying up with exponential speed. And while they'd been getting more sponsor gifts since Ian had joined them, they couldn't survive on the gifts alone.

Ian had insisted on doing the hunting and foraging alone, despite the fact that both Cindi and Matthew had more experience and knowledge when it came to gathering edible plants. Matthew made no attempts to hide his loud, angry rants about his distrust of Ian's motives and suspicions of what he was really doing while he was supposedly looking for food.

In fact, he was becoming increasingly certain that Ian was trying to secure his victory by gaining their trust in order to get them out of the way. It had gotten to the point that he refused to eat any food that Ian foraged for them and he begged the others to do the same.

And as his paranoia increased, Emily's frustration with him grew as well. She loved Matthew like a brother and wanted very much to protect him, but she just couldn't understand his suspicions and they were starting to get on her nerves.

* * *

Ian had insisted that he had found a patch of berries that hadn't yet been infiltrated by tributes or the herd of deer that had managed to outrun the predators.

But as she lay pinned to the ground by Ian who was doing everything in his power to stop her from escaping the safety of their hiding place, Emily was seriously wondering whether they hadn't inadvertently wandered into a Gamemaker trap.

They'd been busy filling their stomachs and their packs with berries when a strange sharp clicking reverberated through the surrounding woods. Not to be deterred from a bountiful food source, they'd continued gorging themselves, writing the noise off as nearby wildlife.

That is, until an extremely large scorpion – nearly twice as big as any of them – came skittering into the clearing with speed seemingly at odds with the number of legs. With a flying leap, launched itself at Cindi with foreclaws spread wide, looking easily capable of crushing a human skull as effortlessly as if it were made of butter. It latched one of its massive claws around her throat, choking off the scream she made, reducing it to a small mewl.

Ian had immediately grabbed Emily around the waist and threw her over his shoulder, then backed slowly and quietly into the trees. When they were safely concealed by a dense clot of underbrush and rocks, he set her back on the ground and turned to peer cautiously out at the fight.

When she had recovered from the immediate shock, she opened her mouth to ask him what he was doing and why weren't they out there fighting, but he seemed to sense this and clapped a hand over her mouth.

Matthew had rushed to Cindi's aid, aiming his bow and loosing shot after shot, but the scorpion's plates were dense as rock and the arrows deflected without so much as scratching the chitin. Realizing that his arrows were of no use, he started looking around in vain for something he could use against it; he had a small hunting knife hanging from his belt, but what he really needed right now was a sword or a spear, neither of which he was proficient in and both of which were in Ian's possession and he was nowhere to be found.

In desperation, he began picking rocks off the ground and throwing them at the arachnid, aiming for its red eyes that glowed like hot coals in the shadows of the forest. This only seemed to make it angrier and it began shaking Cindi like a ragdoll.

As Emily lay pinned to the ground, four more scorpion mutts emerged from the trees and she tried desperately to scream against Ian's hand holding back her cries. Their tails visibly dripped with venom as they swished through the air like whips with distinct snapping sounds.

It was immediately clear that Matthew wouldn't stand a chance against four mutts and Emily was thrashing wildly against Ian, mumbling pleas for him to help, but he was impervious to her begging. They both knew there was nothing he could do even if he had wanted to.

Several of the scorpions appeared to hold him down while another used its tail barb like a knife, slicing him slowly like a gourmet animal carcass at the butcher. Each slice filled him with poison which caused him to writhe and twitch in pain with the most horrible yowling cries.

And he still he fought with every ounce of strength, beating their shells with his fists and demanding they let Cindi go, as if they could understand what he was saying.

Before the mutts had a chance to finish off their prey and come looking for more, Ian once again had Emily in his arms, one hand still firmly clamped over her mouth, and they were retreating the way they'd come with deliberately placed steps to avoid drawing attention to themselves.

The cannons fired just as they reached the safety of their cave and Emily's legs buckled out from under her as Ian finally set her down, sinking to the rocky floor where she pounded a fist against the ground, weeping and cursing him out with every foul word she knew.


	12. Chapter 12

Part of her knew that she shouldn't be laying here, head in his lap, sobbing helplessly while he stroked her hair, telling her that it wasn't her fault.

But it didn't really matter what he said...she'd come here with the sole purpose of keeping Matthew alive and she had failed. She'd watching him being ripped to shreds, fighting against Ian's grip on her, trying desperately to reach her best friend and unable to break free.

"Just leave me here," she told him once her sobs faded into uneven breathing and sporadic hiccups, at the peak of her self-pitying. "Or better yet, put me out of my misery. I've got no reason to stay alive now that Matthew is gone."

In a moment of weakness, he found himself wanting to apologize for having lead her friend to his death. More and more, he found her getting under his skin and he was angry at himself for letting himself become invested in her.

But he let the moment pass unheeded. "_You_are your own reason to stay alive," he told her sternly. "You have nothing left to prove to Matthew or anyone else – you did your best to protect him, but you knew from the beginning that he still only had a one in twenty-four chance of surviving. That's not on you."

She remained unconvinced.

"What about for me, Love?" he asked gently, kissing the palm of her hand. "Would you stay alive for me?"

She stared at the spot where the touch of his lips seemed to have burned into her skin for what felt like an eternity before she looked up to where his eyes were waiting, trained on her as if she were the only thing in the world that existed in that moment.

When she looked into his eyes, she couldn't help it. She nodded and felt her eyes inexplicably filling with tears again as he kissed her.

* * *

Emily fell asleep that night curled up against him, her head on his chest and he was very much conflicted.

He knew he was letting her get far too close. He'd gone into the agreement with her mother with the plan that as soon as it was wise to get rid of her, he would kill her just like he'd killed so many other tributes.

What he hadn't counted on was her finding a way past his walls and his guards and planting herself firmly in his head. He hesitated to say that he was falling for her because admitting it would make things so much more complicated, especially if his plan was to kill her in the end.

He was starting to doubt that he would be able to do that when the time came. He was also beginning to wonder if that hadn't been her mother's plan all along, knowing that he would plan to kill her and that he wouldn't be able to.


	13. Chapter 13

There was a point in the Games where everyone hit the wall, a point where you started to drown in the vastness and confusion of the sheer mental exhaustion. It wasn't a matter of_ if _you reached it, but _when_.

All things considered, Emily should have broken down long ago. Even she would readily admit that; she was possibly the least prepared tribute in the history of the Games. No one believed that she had any business in the Arena (not even her, if she were honest with herself). Whether because of that or in spite of it, she didn't find herself running out of will to live until much later than anyone could have anticipated.

When she finally did, it hit her like a ton of bricks and there was nothing she could do but lay down in her path and let the sheer enormity of hopelessness overtake her.

Ian was at her side, trying his best to get her back on her feet – he had to keep her alive until it was only the two of them if he wanted the sponsor gifts to continue. There was only a handful of them left and by his best estimates, the Gamemakers would be anxious to get things over with in the next day or two. He only had to keep Emily going for a short while longer and then she would no longer be his responsibility.

"Up you get, Love, we can take a break once we reach water," he promised, attempting to get her to support some of her own weight, seeing as she was currently like a ragdoll in his arms.

"What's the point?" she asked quietly, her eyes hazy and unfocused.

Ian sighed and glanced over his shoulder, uncomfortable with how exposed they were. Part of him was tempted to just leave her there if that was what she wanted.

As if reading his mind, she told him, "Go ahead and leave me. It's what you want to do."

"I don't... I never..." she started to contradict, but she didn't let him finish.

"Or better yet, kill me."

The frankness of it took him aback. Even though they all went into any alliance with the knowledge that they would have no choice but to kill each other before the end, there seemed to be a moratorium of sorts when it came to speaking of it.

"It's what you've been planning from the very beginning, isn't it?" She sat up and looked him in the eye, all traces of her defeatedness suddenly gone. "Tell me the truth," she demanded.

"It isn't that simple, Love." He kneeled before her and took her hands in his, doing his best to become his most charming self.

"It is simple," she contradicted, "It's_ very_ simple. You lead Matthew and Cindi to their death. You killed Derek, didn't you? You looked me right in the face and took me for a fool!"

She was asking, but she didn't really need the answer.

Something in him seemed to snap in that moment. "You want the truth? Fine. Only one of us was going to make it out of here alive. You knew that, I knew that, they knew that. Your mother knew that. That's why she asked me to look after you – she wasn't just going to let you throw your life away for some boy from District Nine. She promised she'd make my life a little easier in the Arena if I kept you alive. And that's exactly what I did. And I'd do it again."

She pressed her balled up fists against her eyes and gritted her teeth, trying to suppress the urge to lash out and hit something. "I'm such an idiot," she muttered.

"You can't have honestly believed that the Capitol was going to let one of their own die while letting some rebel descendant's whelp survive."

Ignoring what he'd just said, she snapped, "I can't believe I let you sweet talk me into believing that you actually gave a damn about anyone but yourself! Things were going just fine until I crossed paths with you and then my own stupidity threw a wrench in the plan. I fell for all your lines, I wanted to believe you actually liked me, but all you cared about was earning my trust so that you could kill the people who I cared about!"

The accusations flew rapidly and he had a feeling that they were going to lose him a lot of sympathy from the viewers, but he couldn't bring himself to deny them, seeing as how they were all extremely true.

She ran her fingers through her hair in frustration, knotting her fingers in the tangled locks. "I killed them," she breathed, "I might as well have given the death blow...it was my own recklessness that brought their death upon them."

He opened his mouth to say something – anything – that might quell her distress, but he couldn't quite manage without admitting the blame lay purely with him.

She turned to him, her eyes wide and glistening with approaching tears. "If you ever cared for me at all, I'm begging you...kill me. Please. I can't live knowing that I let them die. You'll get what you wanted, you'll win. I don't want to win if it means carrying this guilt with me."

It was true that it had been his plan to eliminate all the others and then, when it was too late for her mother to do anything to stop him, he would kill her, leaving him the winner. But what he hadn't counted on was growing to feel so attached to her. He knew how everyone viewed the tributes from District Two: heartless, soulless automatons bred solely for the purpose of killing. He supposed he had more or less lived up to that expectation thus far, but he was having trouble disentangling himself from the confusing web of thoughts as far as Emily was concerned.

He was no longer sure he could kill her, now that it had come down to this.


	14. Chapter 14

"Hurry up," JJ urged as she dropped an armload of logs beside Blackwolf where he was placing them with surgical precision to form a carefully constructed pyramid. He'd instructed them which woods would burn the hottest since they only had a short time to heat the surrounding air.

"Are you sure this is what we're supposed to do?" Will asked, pausing to wipe the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. "If we're wrong and the deadline passes..."

She shushed him with a gesture of her hand, then tossed him a potato. "You tell me what else this is supposed to mean."

"That we're hungry," he shrugged, giving her a cheeky grin.

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow and snatched the potato out of his hand. "Then they would've sent us a number we can distribute between the five of us equally. Now shut up before we get into trouble."

Derek gave them both a quizzical look, handing his collected tree bark with which to start the fire to Blackwolf. "Don't you think the fire is big enough already? I mean, they're just potatoes...we're not cooking a turkey dinner or anything."

He'd expected the comment to elicit a laugh or at least a smile, but it got no reaction other than getting him shoved back in the direction of the trees and a command to collect some more tinder.

He was on the edge of the clearing when a sudden thought caused him to turn back, frowning. "What about Emily? We're going to find her, right?"

Blackwolf was instantly distracted from his task. "She's Capitol. She is why we're here right now and she is what we're fighting..."

Derek didn't let him finish before he tackled headlong into Blackwolf and landed several punches. Taken aback, it took Blackwolf several moments before he could recover from his shock enough to fight back.

"Don't you talk about her like that!" Derek hiss from between gritted teeth. "You don't know her! Just because she's from the Capitol doesn't mean she's anything like them!" Blood was flowing copiously from Blackwolf's nose at this point, though he had managed to land a few punches of his own and Derek's eye was already nearly swollen shut.

JJ was shrieking at them to stop, but Derek was too busy seeing red. Clyde and Will physically had to pull him off of Blackwolf before too much damage could be done.

* * *

Despite Emily's continued insistence that he leave her to die, Ian found himself unable to leave her. He'd known for days that he was letting himself get too close to her, despite his determination to remain impervious to her charm.

Now, he was about to pay for his weakness, apparently, as an alarm sounded from seemingly all around and he watched disbelievingly as a hummingbird jet appeared in the sky above them. The world around changed dramatically as what had previously only been blank sky became a series of other mountain peaks as far as the eye could see.

He was confused, looking about for an explanation when Emily leapt up and shot him an accusing glare. "What the hell did you do!?" she demanded, "Do you know what they do to people who piss off the Capitol?"

Before he could answer a crowd of a half dozen or so tributes came flat-out sprinting towards them and Ian immediately felt his protective instinct kick in. Without a word, he attempted to grab Emily and sling her over his shoulder the way he had on previous occasions and head for the forest to hide. He may have been strong and skilled with a weapon, not to mention the favourite to win, but he knew his chances of successfully fighting off that many opponents at once were slim at best; he needed to get the two of them to safety until he had made sense of exactly what was happening right now.

Emily apparently had other ideas, though. "What are you doing!?" she shrieked, fighting against his grip on her. "Put me down! What's going on?"

Her tirade was interrupted by someone calling her name, causing her to stop fighting, filled with disbelief. The owner of that voice was dead. She was sure of it. Ian had told her so.

She couldn't help it – she called back. "Derek? Derek, what's happening?"

His voice increased in urgency. "Emily! Stay there, we're getting out of here!"

She fought harder against Ian's arms around her. "We're getting out of here," she whispered, somewhere between a question of disbelief and a relieved sigh.

He was still sure it was a trick, refusing to let her go lest they reach her and carry her out of his reach, beyond his ability to protect her, where his promise to take care of her would be broken. But anything further he might have done was interrupted when a current shot through the water of the arena and the one foot he had in the river was immediately sent into spastic convulsions, causing him to fall to the ground and drop Emily headlong into the dirt.

"Run," he strangled out as the convulsions travelled up the length of his body, "Emily, go..."

But she wasn't listening. "They're going to save us, Ian," she insisted, pulling him out of the water, refusing to release her grip on his hand.

There was a ladder hovering somewhere nearby and she was sure that if she could just get ahold of it, everything would finally be alright. The tributes that had been running towards them had all reached the ladder and were climbing towards the jet. Derek's voice was shouting at her, urging her to save herself, straining to be heard over the thrum of the jet engines.

The last thing she remembered before losing consciousness was the feeling of a wooden rung under the fingers of one hand and the sweaty palm of her other hand sliding against Ian's as she fought determinedly to save them both.


	15. Chapter 15

Emily returned to consciousness and almost immediately emptied the contents of her stomach over the side of the gurney she was strapped to, leaving her throat burning, since her stomach had been full of nothing but acid and a little dirt she'd managed to swallow during the scuffle.

Tears burned at her eyes as she attempted to work up enough saliva to spit the sourness out of her mouth. She coughed as her lungs seemed to reel from the shock of the violent reaction of her body.

There was the sound of an air-locked door opening and footsteps crossing the floor to where a curtain blocked her from taking stock of the room in which she was currently housed. She couldn't remember anything that had happened after she'd pleaded with Ian to kill her and she had absolutely no idea where she was right now. She couldn't really bring herself to care anymore.

Metal slid along metal as the curtain was pulled back and she quickly shut her eyes again, not particularly caring to have a conversation right now.

"Hey, Princess," a voice murmured, work-worn hands brushing her dishevelled hair away from her face. "You pull a Whiskey Pete?"

She lay in silence for several moments, planning to act like she hadn't heard, until the words sunk in. There was only one person in the whole world that called her princess...

She sat straight up, causing her stomach to heave painfully again and it felt like her entire body were trying to turn itself inside out. He pressed a gentle hand to her shoulder to guide her back down to the bed, then found some button out of her sight that brought the bed into a sitting position.

"You've gotta relax or you're gonna bust your stitches open," he warned her. "You're already in for a long recovery, if I were you, I wouldn't make it any worse."

Her head was spinning from the effort of trying to make the things he said fit in with her knowledge of the situation in which she found herself. "Where?" she managed to croak out of her parched and stinging throat.

"We're on a jet...we've gotta get out of dodge because the Capitol is sure to be pretty damn pissed about the stunt we just pulled."

"What stunt?" she demanded in her raspy voice, getting distressed. "What happened? What's going on?"

"Shh," he soothed, trying to get her to lie back down. "You've gotta calm down or your doctors aren't gonna let me in here anymore." Her stern unimpressed glare, one he was no stranger to getting, brought a grin to his face. "I'm not supposed to tell you until they've deemed your stress levels low enough to handle it...I don't tell it very well anyway, there's some people you've gotta meet and they'll do it justice."

She sighed unenthusiastically, lips pursed, crossing her arms over her chest as she laid back.

He couldn't help but laugh a little at her pouting. "Cheer up, Princess."

She turned her head so that she could look at him with a steadfastly cheerless expression. Another question struck her and she couldn't help but ask, even knowing that Derek probably wouldn't be thrilled to hear it. "What happened to Ian?"

Sure enough, it was his turn to look displeased. "I don't know – I was knocked out when they lifted me, Jayje, and Will into the jet. The Capitol probably got to him first." Seeing her brow knit with concern, he couldn't help but try to assuage her distress a little. "But I wouldn't worry...District Two is the Capitol's pet, I can't imagine them laying a hand on anyone from there."

* * *

"What are we going to with him?" Aaron Hotchner, District Twelve's mentor, asked the room at large as he stared through the two-way mirror that looked into Ian Doyle's cell. "We can't just keep him locked in here forever."

"We've got no choice," Jason Gideon argued. "The Capitol is going to want him back. He's the best weapon we've got against them. To let him go would be foolish."

"I'm not talking about letting him go," Hotchner pointed out, "We could always just kill him. He's too dangerous."


End file.
